


Friends Close, Enemies Closer

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I'm going to burn in hell, Just the right balance, M/M, SORRY THE CHAPTERS ARE SO SHORT!., what if the founding fathers are just looking down from heaven being disappointed in me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 15:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14523351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson are by no means in a relationship that isn't founded on complete loathing. But if everyone keeps putting them in compromising situations, will they maintain their status as platonic enemies?





	1. The first chapter

**Author's Note:**

> In which Jefferson and Hamilton are lightly interrogated; then set up next to each other much to the confusion and excitement of everyone who isn't oblivious to the sexual tension

Jefferson had many strong suits, but he'd be damned if getting along with Hamilton was one.

“Hey, Jeffershit! Washington needs you,” Hamilton shouted, swinging into Jefferson's office with one hand on the doorframe. His hair was down today, so his eye bags and stubble were the only things preventing him from completely bursting out into song as a convincing Disney princess.

“Darlin’, this ain't a Disney movie,” the Virginian hissed.

“Notcha darling,” Hamilton responded dully. “But if you want―”

“Buzz off,” Jefferson grunted, reluctantly standing up. “What does Washington want me for?”

Hamilton shrugged. “Y'know. Useless stuff, secretary of state stuff.”

“I hate you.”

“Hate you too, darling.”

At this, Jefferson just grumbled, storming out of the room past Hamilton. The shorter man's lips curled into a grin, and he left the room too.

But then Jefferson was back, now at Hamilton's door. “Your daddy wants you too this time.”

“Oh, come on, you know he isn't my dad,” Hamilton hissed.

“Whatever. Washington needs you to come too.”

“Because you're not sufficient?” This jibe was stupid, and both of them knew it ― they could match wits easily, with both supplying sound arguments that usually ended in physical arguing. But it was still fun to piss off each other.

Jefferson rolled his eyes. “Let's go.”  
Hamilton scowled, but followed.

―

Once they sat down in Washington's office, they both knew there was something up. He was tapping his pen on the table in a fervent manner, and Jefferson could make out a beat. Jefferson hated this habit of Washington's, but ignored it.

“Secretaries Hamilton and Jefferson. Do you know why you're here?”

“Because we were born?” Hamilton joked drily.  
Washington dismissed this with a wave of his hand. “Well, we have heard rumors circulating that you two are in some kind of, um, sexual relationship? Is that true?”

Both of the secretaries looked shocked. 

Hamilton shook his head in absolute denial, and Jefferson swallowed thickly, trying to get that mental image out of his mind.

“No, sir, we barely even have a relationship, let alone―” Jefferson trailed off, a look of disgust clear on his face.

“Well, thank God. Because we're locked in the building tonight, and no one can go home in this weather. Since everyone will be sleeping here―” Washington looked pointedly at Alexander, who barely slept anyways― “we don't want to deal with anything like that.”

The secretaries nodded quickly.

“Okay. I'll broadcast sleeping arrangements later, you two are dismissed.”

―

If there was one thing Hamilton hated, it was Jefferson. But to all of his friends and most of his colleagues, he was in some strange secret relationship with the pompous Southerner.

Sometimes he wondered if these teases weren't unfounded, though. Because sometimes, in the middle of a heated argument, the two would meet eyes, and Hamilton would pause, just to get more heated. Or sometimes, walking in the hallway, Jefferson would wait back until Hamilton was next to him, and his long fingers would brush Hamilton's sleeve for a moment as an argument started.

But they would both dismiss the thought, because they were both men and both hated each other...supposedly.

A broadcast interrupted his train of thought.

“Sorry for the interruption. The outside weather is extremely bad, and many roads have shut down. In other words, we're doing another lock-in. You can call your family, and come up to the front desk for sleeping arrangements. Everyone will be sleeping in one of three rooms. Thank you.”

Hamilton groaned, hitting his head on his laptop.

“Alexander Hamilton I swear to God, if you were the one that broke the coffee machine―”

“The hell you do want, Jefferson.”

“You broke the electric coffee machine.”

“Okay, number one I did not break it, number two I only use the pure black option, not your creamer and crap mix, so yours should still work. Or maybe the electricity is...shit.” His laptop had shut down, and he looked up into Jefferson's angry eyes. “It's the electricity.”

Jefferson sighed, exasperated. He sat down on the corner of Hamilton's desk and ranted, “how are we supposed to get work done now? We can't use docs, or any online collaborations―”

“You'll survive,” Hamilton hissed.

“With no caffeine?”

“I've got a stash, so it isn't my issue,” Hamilton shrugged, smirking as Thomas leaned closer to his face.

“Give...me..coffee,” he snarled.

Hamilton leaned back in his chair, enjoying this power over Jefferson. “Nah, 'm alright.”

“H―”

“Gentlemen! Why are you not in your sleeping locations?” Washington boomed, apparently walking through the halls looking for still-awake people.

“I, uh, didn't check yet,” Hamilton said, suddenly self-conscious as he realized that Jefferson was standing near his desk, mere inches from his face.

Washington had taken to yelling at some interns, so Hamilton and Jefferson slipped out of the room, walking silently to the front desk.

On the way, they kept sneaking glances at the other, waiting for an argument to arise, not realizing the latter saw then out of the corner of their peripheral. Finally, they got to the front desk.

“Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Jefferson, you two will be… here and here,” the front desk secretary said, pointing at two locations on the second floor floor plan, hiding a smirk.

The two secretaries groaned again.


	2. The second chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it is made apparent that Jefferson and Hamilton have unresolved issues ft. everyone's dislike of storms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello hello!  
> Thank you for reading this!

“Alexander! Why are you not asleep? Thomas? What the hell?” Washington whispered.

“I can't sleep, he smells like Tide Pods,” Hamilton argued.

“Well, Hamilton smells like a small gremlin with BO issues. I can't sleep,” Jefferson said, shuffling in his sleeping bag.

Washington sighed. “Are you two five-year-olds?”

The two didn't answer, and Washington eventually gave up, retreating to his study.

Hamilton turned, his half-twisted body finally comfortable...Until he opened his eyes and realized he was about four inches away from Jefferson's dark brown eyes.

He shut his eyes and burrowed deeper into his sleeping bag, hearing Jefferson shift in the sleeping bag next to him.

Then the lightning decided to flash brightly through the large curtains, and Hamilton was suddenly a child again. Water rushing at him...then James went under. A scream tore through him, but he was helpless. Tears racked his body, mingling with the hurricane's currents. He braved further, until―

“Shh, Alexander,” someone pleaded, and Hamilton found himself wrapped in strong arms, with his sleeping bag partly off.

He looked up, and subconsciously registered them as Jefferson's.

Wait. Jefferson had called him Alexander, and consoled him, cradling him closer to his chest? No one had done that since Laurens, admittedly it was enjoyable but not with Jefferson.

At least that's what he told himself, pushing away and pulling his sleeping bag up around him. Jefferson seemed surprised, but then turned away coldly. He couldn't let Hamilton think he was vulnerable.

Thunder rolled, and Hamilton turned away, his face wet. He didn't recognize the person on the other side of him, but they were asleep anyways. A choked sob slipped out as more memories were triggered about Nevis, and the hurricane, and…

Wait, now he was warm. There was something against his back, and it was comfortable. So he let himself fall into a calm slumber, too tired to wonder who his metaphorical knight in shining armour was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I might have to change the rating because chapter three may be a bit NSFW


	3. The Third Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it becomes clear that mornings reveal the most about someone's internal thoughts and issues, mostly issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's like, half NSFW
> 
> I mean it's not complete smut but I sure as hell wouldn't read this in front of my boss

“Nngh.”

Hamilton tried to roll over, but felt firm muscle against his back. Now he didn't want to get up at all. He turned slightly, softly moaning as thick lips traced his neck.

He tried to recall the events if last night, but couldn't. Oh well. He could do that later.

Until he saw, through his eyelids, very bright light. He didn't open the blinds, but his apartment window didn't let much light in anyways...

Wait, if the person was still asleep next to him, who had opened the blinds?

“I think he's waking up!”

“Shoot shoot shoot, get a few more pictures!”

Hamilton pried an eye open, and immediately grumbled. The unwelcome light was camera flashes. And he was.. oh. The lock-in. He rolled over, and his jaw promptly dropped. Thomas Jefferson, of all people, was spooning him.

He struggled to pull away, but Jefferson was persistent. He nuzzled into Hamilton's collarbone, extremely warm -- but the immigrant would forever deny that.

Hamilton glared at the people taking pictures and giggling furiously. Madison, Monroe, Tilghman, Hemings, and a few others.

“Hey, hey! This is not what it looks like! This― JEFFERSON, WAKE UP!” Hamilton shouted, twisting in Jefferson's grasp. “See? All him. This was not me, not my fault.” He crossed his arms impudently, and Jefferson grinned in his subconscious state.

“You're cute when you're angry.”

Hamilton tried harder to get away from Jefferson. “Dude! Let go of me!”

Jefferson finally gave in, loosening his grip on Hamilton's torso. Quickly, Hamilton scrambled out, then stood up. “That was entirely him! I didn't give him consent, that's literally rape!”

Jefferson groaned, and turned over. “I didn't do that, Hamilton, jeez. You were crying about some crap with the thunderstorm and stuff, and you were cold. Chill.”

“Wh..I was not CRYING!”

“Yes you were, darlin’,” Thomas muttered into his pillow. He then looked up at the people hovering around them with cameras.

“The fuck?”

“We should be asking you that,” Madison said quietly. “Like, sleeping with Hamilton? What the hell, Thomas.”

“Jemmy―”

“Don't 'Jemmy’ me. Answer my question.”

“Have you ever heard of an interjection, James?” Jefferson snapped truculently.

Then, over the voices interrogating the two secretaries, Washington's voice came.

"What did I say, you two? Can I not trust you for one damn night?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo...how was that?

**Author's Note:**

> Well, comments spur me on..  
> Give me feedback, whether good of bad I don't care!


End file.
